When I walked into the Waxy’s, the girl on the right in red was sitting alone.
I walked past her and around the curved bar to the seat from which I later took this picture. For most of the night, the girl in red was sitting solo because the girl on the left in the orange-ish top was sitting to my right next to a guy having a drink and talking. It was obvious to me they were on a first date. The conversation was awkward and the guy was visibly nervous. I’ve been on a thousand first dates, blind dates, online dates, etc., etc., etc., so I immediately felt for the guy. It was obvious to me he was a bit out of his league. I had no reason at the time to believe these two girls were connected in any way.
While chatting with some old drunk dudes to my left, I got sucked into the Dodgers vs. Cubs game and hadn’t noticed when the date in progress to my right wrapped up. I really wish I had witnessed the “good night” so I could gauge the degree of awkwardness. After Miguel Montero went grand dong for the Cubs, I noticed the girl on the date had joined the girl in the red sitting in my forward line of vision.
Ahh, classic. Gotta love the teamwork. The girl in red sitting solo for all this time was the embedded spy sacrificing her own Saturday night to be her friend’s safety valve. After paying my tab, I walked in their direction towards the exit door. I stopped and told them how impressed I was with their coordinated effort. They laughed and asked if it was really that obvious. Trust me, I explained, I’m an old pro and I’ve seen it a thousand times. I asked the girl in the orange-ish top how it went. She said it was the standard “first date last date” situation. I told her I was unfortunately all too familiar.
We shared another laugh before I wished them a good night and slipped out the door.
Relax, I have zero intention of turning this into an exercise, fitness or weight loss blog. As hard as I’m focusing on those things right now, the mere thought of me blogging them is pure comedy. After last night, however, these thoughts have been swirling (like red wine in a glass) in my mind so I’m gonna share. Perhaps I really just wanted to share how gorgeous my lamb chops were…
This entire week has been awesome and I’ve been doing the damn thing by eating well and exercising a lot. A lingering knot in my calf (not the surgically repaired one) finally bothered me enough to take a rest from the gym Thursday. All is well and good, right?
But what is it about rest days that make me feel like I have free license to go too far? I couldn’t stop myself in the kitchen last night. After a reasonable dinner capped off a day in which I was under my calorie goal, I decided to open a bottle of wine and roast some lamb chops. Wtf?!
In my defense, it was a 2007 Nachise by Arizona Stronghold Vineyards so c’mon…
When Maynard James Keenan makes wine, you fucking drink it.
Second, just look at these lamb chops… THEY WERE HEAVEN IN MY MOUTH.
I guess the lesson is we must continue to enjoy life. Punishing ourselves into misery will not lead to long term progress. We need occasional reminders, albeit in reasonable moderation, of what makes life wonderful.
And red wine and lamb chops are wonderful.
Let’s do this.
Repost from my facebook.
Listening to Toucher & Rich on 98.5 The Sports Hub while getting dressed, I was getting all irritated by the topic of the NFL and stupid rules the players have to follow, which affects ME, the fat guy who sits on the couch with a cold beer in his hand. Walking to get coffee, I grew more irritated by the idiots who don’t know how to navigate intersections, because, you know, it slowed down my coffee mission. Who do these people think they are?
Walking into Dunkin’ Donuts across the street, some tall kid asked me for 80 cents so he could buy a coffee. For the love of god it’s way too early in the morning to already be fighting off lunatics. And for christ’s sake it’s 2016 and NOBODY carries cash anymore, nevermind perceivably worthless coins. He was way too young to be begging for change so I asked him what his deal is. He said he lost his arm in Iraq and was dealing with PTSD along with shrapnel in his skull and lower back. (He showed me the scars.)
The half-awake fog inside my brain instantly cleared and I realized for the billionth time what an asshole I am for getting worked up over meaningless crap. I thanked him for his service, invited him inside Dunkin Donuts with me and told him to order what he wanted. He ordered a small French vanilla, a Reese’s peanut butter square and a blueberry cake donut. I admired his morning sweet tooth and then paid for his $5 breakfast with my Dunkin’ Donuts smartphone app.
“Wow, pretty cool how you can pay right with your phone like that,” he said before thanking me profusely. His name is Pat.
When I inquired more about him, he told me he’s “kinda homeless” right now and bouncing around. He said he tried the homeless veterans shelder downtown, but didn’t like it and it’s tough to blame him:
He said he hoped for a prosthetic arm, but the odds were against him. He admitted he was in a very bad mental state. I told him there’s a lot of help available, but he has to want it and make the most of it. I told him I’d hate to see the sacrifices he’s made and injuries endured be all for naught if he doesn’t go on to live a happy and prosperous life. I told him people are happy to help him, so long as we see him continue to help himself.
If he continues his downward spiral after I bought him breakfast, I guess that makes me an entitlement program being taken advantage of. I’m currently living off state unemployment benefits so I guess that means I’m taking advantage of an entitlement program to fund an entitlement program being taken advantage of.
Despite being a current benefactor of the “system”, I do believe entitlement programs can go too far. I’m healthy with four intact limbs and I’m able to actively seek work. Pat is not. He’s in dire need of mental and emotional support and physical rehabilitation at a level I can’t possibly understand.
Sacrificing a small piece of my state benefits and investing it back into aid for an injured veteran was the very least I could do. Personally, I’m embarrassed I haven’t done more.
This song was released in 2009 and I’M JUST HEARING IT NOW?!?!
What the fuck. I know I’ve been out of touch for the last several years, but damn.
I gotta get back on my game.
I took Marathon Monday of 2013 off from work and was enjoying the beautiful morning. I live on the marathon route in Brookline about a hundred yards from the Boston city line and about a mile and a half from Kenmore Square. I always love watching the leaders run by because they are LEGIT running. As in, like, their marathon pace is practically my sprint. It’s an amazing display of what the human body can do and it happens every year ten feet from my front door.
After watching the elites go by, I procrastinated on my taxes (due that day) by watching the Red Sox game. Once I finally sat down to grind it out with TurboTax, I muted my TV to avoid any further distractions. An hour or so later I received a text from a good friend asking if I was ok. I replied I had no idea what he was talking about. He mentioned something about bombs. This good friend lives in Oregon and was checking up on me, who was oblivious despite living so close to what just happened. Yes, I found out about the 2013 Boston Marathon Bombings from a friend in Oregon.
I immediately ran to the TV and unmuted it and was horrified by what I was seeing. I stepped outside my apartment door and onto the sidewalk of Beacon Street. Large groups of runners were gathered in collective confusion over why police made them stop. Turns out the intersection on my block had been designated a point to steer runners off-course in a direction safe from the finish line.
Armed with the news from my TV, I started telling the runners what had happened and the shock that appeared on their faces was one I’ll never forget. Many of them immediately checked their phones and saw backlogs of messages from concerned family and friends seeking a status update. Others looked at news alerts with horror as the reality sunk in.
I’ll never forget that day and those that followed. It was a great time to be a Bostonian.
As for the movie, some have argued it’s too soon. Personally, I can’t wait to see this and I trust Mark Wahlberg got it right.